


Mr Tricklebank might not be so evil after all, despite literally being a devil

by ALoafOfBread



Category: Mr Tricklebank, Original Work
Genre: "Mr Tricklebank is the devil" taken literally, Angst, Confessions, Couch Cuddles, Crack, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, Cuddling & Snuggling, Demons, Devils, Established Relationship, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, One Shot, Other, Reader-Insert, Romance, Spooning, You love Jordan a lot and he loves you more, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:55:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23521171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALoafOfBread/pseuds/ALoafOfBread
Summary: Tricklebank turned towards you with a pained expression. His forehead was creased into a frown and his eyebrows were knitted together. You looked deep into his eyes. Those brown irises that you had stared into so many times before. The eyes that once looked into yours with love and fondness, were now filled with pure anxiety. Jordan exhaled, readying himself to speak. “I’m not who you think I am.”Your mind instantly raced to all the crime novels you’d read. It sounded so stereotypical that you found it amusing. Before you could say anything, however, Jordan continued again.“I’m not from this world. Nor am I human.”~~~~OR~~~~Mr Tricklebank confesses to you what he actually is. A devil from the deepest pits of hell.
Relationships: Mr Tricklebank & Reader, Mr Tricklebank/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Mr Tricklebank might not be so evil after all, despite literally being a devil

“You still awake?” You hear Tricklebank murmur, breaking the silence of the still night. You leaned closer into his embrace, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. You two were cuddled close together, his arms enclosed around your frame. 

“I am now.” You replied, grinning and blinking the sleep away from your eyes. You could hear Jordan’s beating heart and feel the warmth of his body against yours. Tricklebank’s hands slowly moved down to wrap around your middle, his soft touch making your skin tingle. His fingers curled into the fabric of your nightshirt. Not tightly, but just enough to reassure you that you were safe and protected. His touch was surely the best feeling in the entire world. It made everything else disappear completely. As if it was only you and him. The only things that mattered. 

“I’m sorry for waking you, my love,” Tricklebank replied. 

“Invalid,” You said as you snuggled closer to the man. “Jordan, should we…” You trailed off slowly. You knew that it was late. You two should probably be heading to bed. However, it was so comfortable within Mr Tricklebank’s arms that you didn’t want to leave. 

“Hey, don’t think about anything. Just close your eyes. I’ll still be here when you wake up.” Jordan said with a tenderness that he’d never showed to another human being. The man leaned towards you and planted a kiss on your forehead. The feeling of his soft lips against your skin made your heart speed up. 

You let your eyes flutter closed, feeling the most at ease you had felt in a very long time. But, you hesitated. Your eyes darted downwards, noting the way Mr Tricklebank’s left arm was pressed uncomfortably into the side of the couch. You’d have been surprised if it wasn’t numb by now. 

“You should sleep, too.” You said. “This position probably isn’t too comfortable for you.”

“Well, I am not human, and therefore I don’t require rest,” Jordan replied.

Despite sounding entirely serious, you took the man’s words as a joke. “Oh yeah, remind me to bring some special alien food when we go to visit your martian grandparents next week.” You spoke sarcastically, lips twitching upwards in a slight smile. 

Jordan let out a sigh, and you felt him pull away from the embrace. You reluctantly let go of him and he scooted backwards on the couch until you two were merely sitting next to one another. The world felt much colder without the contact of his skin against yours and the soft caress of his touch. 

Mr Tricklebank didn’t say anything for a while. The man turned away, staring into space. You could barely make out his face in the semi-darkness. To anyone else, his expression would’ve looked completely neutral. To you, however, he seemed to be questioning his entire life. He looked extremely lost and troubled. The subtle, almost unnoticeable crease between his eyebrows, the clench of his jaw, the tension in his muscles. All things that betrayed to you how Jordan was truly feeling. All the things that you could see, because of how well you knew the man. 

As you searched his face for an answer at his sudden change in mood, silence hung deep and heavy in the air. It was eery and unnatural, cruelly underscoring your previous comfort within each other. The silence was like a gaping void, needing to be filled with words, sounds, anything. It was as if the atmosphere had completely changed in the last couple of seconds, from carefree to awkward. You wondered if it was something you’d said. 

“We should talk,” Tricklebank said slowly. His voice was croaky and filled with a deep sadness that you couldn’t quite understand. “I have to tell you something.” He was sitting rigidly. His back arched and his eyes staring down at the whitewashed walls. “I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now. It’s something you need to know. But… I could never find the right time. I suppose now is as good as any.” Jordan’s hands went to fiddle nervously at the sleeve of his hoodie.

Your stomach dropped and you felt the intense worry grow in your chest. The weight of the situation finally hit you. “What is it, Jordan?” You spoke with a hint of uncertainty in your voice. Your mind couldn’t help but come to the worst possible conclusion. 

“I’m scared of what you’ll say. What you’ll think.” He blurted out. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stand it if you came to hate me because of this.” 

You were slightly surprised at how open Jordan was being about his emotions. But then again, you two had gotten past that barrier long ago. You reached out, grabbing his hand and pulling it towards you. You entwined your fingers into his, clasping his hand tightly and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Both of you felt comforted by the touch. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. Don’t worry,” you added gently, “We’ll figure it out together.”

Tricklebank turned towards you with a pained expression. His forehead was creased into a frown and his eyebrows were knitted together. You looked deep into his eyes. Those brown irises that you had stared into so many times before. The eyes that once looked into yours with love and fondness, were now filled with pure anxiety. Jordan exhaled, readying himself to speak. “I’m not who you think I am.” 

Your mind instantly raced to all the crime novels you’d read. It sounded so stereotypical that you found it amusing. Before you could say anything, however, Jordan continued again. 

“I’m not from this world. Nor am I human.” 

Tricklebank’s words sat heavy in the air. You just stared right back, at a loss for words. This had to be a joke, right? But as you looked into Tricklebank’s gaze, you could tell that he was being 100% serious. You knew him far too well enough to see. His eyes only held the absolute truth. This was no silly April Fool’s prank. 

“What do you even mean by that?” You said, shocked and hoping that the man you loved didn’t have some sort of mental disorder. Your hand subconsciously tightened around Tricklebank’s. 

“I am what you humans would call… A devil.” Jordan continued, “I think you would know me as Satan.”

“What the fuck, Jordan? Are you schizophrenic?” You exclaimed, worry making your tone seem harsh. 

Tricklebank sighed, and you could see the way that he pushed down his own emotions as he let out a little huff. “Please, just look here. I swear I’m not crazy.” Jordan’s eyes pleaded you to understand. 

You stared at the man, nodding and anxiously waiting for him to continue. 

He pried his hand out of your grasp and held it out between you two. In a swift motion, he snapped his fingers. The sound seemed to echo and reverberate off the walls, making your eardrums hurt. Jordan winced, and from the top of his head sprouted a pair of Devil's horns. They were crimson red in colour, around 15 centimetres in length and looked sharper than a sword. 

Abruptly, not a fraction of a second later, a burst of flame erupted from the palm of Mr Tricklebank’s hand. The fiery ribbons sparked and danced, casting its warm light upon the room. Jordan twirled his fingers about, sending glowing embers spiralling upwards and around the path which he traced into the air, before they cascaded gently down onto the carpet below. The sight was slightly mesmerising. 

Your eyes widened in utter shock when it finally hit you what you were seeing. It was truly like some sort of black magic. 

Words completely left you. You stared back into Mr Tricklebank’s eyes and your heart seemed to drop five stories. It felt like you were stuck underwater. The world around you had become a slow, confusing, warbled and jumbled mess. You’d never been a big believer in the paranormal, always choosing to side with science and proven facts. But now, looking at the sight in front of you, you didn’t know what to think anymore. 

“I… come from a place that humans do not know of. If the other demons knew what I was telling you… I’d be hunted down and my execution would be planned.” Jordan’s shoulders were slumped and his eyes were cast downwards in a mournful gaze. 

“Back where I came from, I was known as Destroyer of the Worlds. People would summon me just to kill and wreak havoc. It’s less fun than it sounds. I got sick and tired of it all pretty quickly. So I left my old life behind, and came here, hoping that I could get a fresh start. A new life as a normal person. I’m a shapeshifter, you see. So I transformed into the most generic person I could think of and began living as Jordan Tricklebank.”

The man finally looked back up at you. His eyes narrowed slightly, desperately searching your face for any sign of what you might be feeling or thinking. But your mind was absolutely blank. 

Jordan reached out towards you slowly, his open hand held out in a gesture of peace. But you couldn’t help but violently flinch backwards in your autopilot state. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Mr Tricklebank, the man you loved, was… Satan??? You sat there, unable to speak and totally shocked as various thoughts raced through your head. Your mouth was frozen wide open in an expression of stunned surprise. 

The man must’ve seen the fear in your face, for his hand immediately retracted backwards. You watched as the truth dawned on him. 

You were afraid. Afraid of him. Afraid of what he might be capable of. 

The look on your face absolutely killed him. The fear, cautiousness and horror in your eyes said it all. It was like you’d kicked a puppy. He let out a small exhale and you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes water. Jordan’s brown irises held complete despair and hurt. 

“Please, I’m so sorry.” The man begged, his eyes willing you to understand. He took a deep breath, quickly regaining his composure before addressing you. 

“We can start over. I’ll do anything, everything can be perfect. Just please don’t leave me.” The heaviness of his tone made your chest tighten. “I’ve changed. I swear. I’m not who I was before.”

“I love you so much. I can’t lose you.” The man said, his sentences barely a whisper. Despite his words, it was like he had already given up. A darkness settled across his face, making him look decades older than he truly was. His rich brown eyes seemed to have lost all their life and energy, becoming empty orbs instead. A voice inside of Jordan told him that it was hopeless. 

Your brain stutters for a moment. It felt like every part of you went on pause while your thoughts could catch up. It took a while for your mind to fully comprehend the situation. Your stoney expression melted away, and you looked back at the man with tenderness. 

“Jordan,” you spoke softly, placing one hand on the man’s shoulder. You gave a reassuring squeeze, feeling the shape of his strong muscles underneath the fabric of his clothes. “I don’t care who you were before. I don’t care where you came from, or who your ancestors might be.”

“You’ll always be Jordan to me.”

A warm smile graced your lips, lighting up your face. The relief that rushed through Tricklebank was overwhelming. All sorts of emotions crashed into him all at once. He didn’t even know how to react. A shaky laugh escaped his lips, a sound filled with both joy and disbelief. 

“I don’t deserve someone like you.” Jordan murmured a moment later, seemingly at loss for any other words. His eyes dripped with tears. They spilled over, sliding down his cheek and landing with small splatters below. You smiled silently at him, knowing that the man probably wouldn’t appreciate it if you pointed out the fact that he was crying. 

“Listen to me, Jordan,” you said gently, “You’re more than you think of yourself. You’re the best thing that has, and will ever, happen to me. You’re everything to me, and you deserve to be happy.”

Abruptly, the man threw his arms around you, enveloping you in a hug. You returned the embrace, pulling Jordan closer and gently rubbing his arm. 

Despite the heaviness settled in Tricklebank’s stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of your body pressed against his. You made him feel warm, like everything was going to turn out alright, no matter what. 

For the first time, he truly believed it.


End file.
